


Prehensile Opportunity

by Lady Clytemnestra (Lady_Clytemnestra)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Bondage, Dominance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1276267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Clytemnestra/pseuds/Lady%20Clytemnestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kathryn gets ensnared by that prehensile plant and Chakotay sees an opportunity. He's tired of her games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prehensile Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PCBW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PCBW/gifts).



“It's got my hair!”

That plant has her right where I want her. It's holding fast. I should let her out, but I think I'll use the opportunity. I look down at my feet. 

“Chakotay,” she beckons, the prehensile tendrils curling around her body. “Help!”

I take a breath.

“Actually...”

There it is. That Death Glare. It's Force Ten.

“Commander...”

I can't help but smile. This is a long time coming.

“Kathryn?”

She's squirming. The tendrils coil tighter, trapping her to her desk.

“Get. Me. Out. _Now_.”

“No, I don't think I will.” I step closer, relying on that plant to keep her pinned. “I think it's time that you heard some things I have to say.”

She just kicked the Death Glare up another notch. I didn't know it had another notch. But I won't be put off so easily.

“After New Earth, I knew things would be different, even difficult. But I didn't realize they would be...” The word is going to hurt her. But it has to be said. “... almost unbearable.”

She recoils as much as she can, the plant now holding her torso.

“I can't keep pretending, Kathryn. Every time you touch me, I want to jump out of my skin. I dream of you at night, I hear your voice in the sound of the sonic shower. You …” I sigh, look down at my feet again to collect my thoughts. “You have no idea the effect you have on me.”   
She makes a small noise. I can't look at her, not yet. Not until it's all out.

“I know it hurts to hear it, but … damn it, Kathryn. To hell with protocols. If you could just let me in, let me show you how much I … how much I love you--”

This time it's more of a whimper.

I run my hand over my face.

“I'm sorry, I didn't--”

She's making choked sounds. I look up.

  
“Kathryn!”

The plant has her by the throat now, one tendril over her mouth forming a gag. I pull at it, catch her eye. She's looking past me, at something on the desk beneath the vines. I see it. 

  
“The stalk? What about it?”

Her fingers are moving. It's a tiny movement, infinitesimal, but it's enough.

“Stroke it?”

She grunts.

I run my hands over the stalk, caressing it gently. The tendrils stiffen, then begin to relax slowly. The vine that has wrapped itself around her throat relaxes and she's coughing. Her mouth is freed, then her hands, her legs, but it won't let go of her torso. She's leaning over the plant, a murderous glint in her eyes. She raises a hand to her neck, massages gently.

“I'm so sorry. I should have realized sooner, should have looked up--”

Her hand covers mine, those steel eyes burning into me.

“What else?” she rasps.

“'What else?' I should have--” That delicate iron hand on my chest.

“If I let you...” Her thumb is stroking my chest, her gaze telling me it's deliberate.

I clear my throat.

“If you just let me... show you how much I love you...”

Her fingertip is on my chin. She tilts my face down to hers, brushes her lips over mine. For an instant, every cell in my body is electrified, lit up like a warp core. She pulls back, those eyes questioning. I take her face in my hands, cover her lips with mine, let the hunger take over. Her arm is around my neck, the other hand on my cheek. I deepen the kiss, move one hand to her hip, and she squeaks.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” She's flushed, breathless. “It's the damn plant...”

It's got her by the ankle, the coil around her torso much tighter.

“It's squeezing,” she pants.

“Let me help.”

She stays my hand, that flush creeping down past her pips. She has a mischievous look to her, those lips curling in a half smile.

“Actually... it's a little erotic.”

I freeze for a second. She's tackling a fantasy of mine that many lovers have balked at, and she'd better not be playing another game.

The tendril at her ankle is tightening, another coming up to claim the other calf. There's a way to find out just how serious she is. It's risky, but I'm already in over my head.

“If we could loosen--”

I cover her mouth with my hand, lower my face to hers. Her eyes are wide, her body rigid.  
“I'm tired of talking, Kathryn. I've said all I've got to say and now it's time to make your choice.”

She isn't protesting. I spin her in my hands, face her away from me and bend her over the desk. I have to be quick. She's notorious for changing her mind.

“You've played enough games.”

She's left me hard and wanting too many times. My anger is bubbling over again and I know I have to be careful.

I bring my hand down on her perfect backside, the one that I've dreamed of touching, caressing, slapping for years.

She moans, presses back against me.

Spirits. I have never met a person that holds me in the palm of their hand like this woman does. She has the power to destroy me. Part of me is frightened of her. She's already hurt me, more times than I'd like to admit. But the other part of me, the part that wants control right now, wants her just as she is. Bent over her desk, moaning, helpless, and completely at my mercy.

“Chakotay...”

I bury my fingers in the fiery strands of her hair and pull, her beautiful neck elongated.

“Beg me.”

She moans again, a low throaty sound that hardens me faster than any hand or mouth ever has.

“Please.” It's a half-assed plea, a cop out.

I won't have it. I bring my hand down on her rear again, harder than before, and she gasps.   
“Not good enough,” I growl.

“Chakotay, please.” She's putting a little more effort into it. She's played this game before. In fact, she's playing it too well. She's playing me, her entire demeanor inveigling me into what she wants, what she desires. Again. That part of me that wants control rears up, feral and angry. I press her cheek into the desk, tighten my fingers in her hair until she yelps.

“You still think it's a game.”

She's panting harder, her palms flat against the desktop. A runner is creeping up my leg and I take it, yank it up to claim her wrist before smacking her ass again.   
“It's not playtime, Kathryn. We aren't children. You won't play me. If you want me, tell me. But I won't be jerked around anymore.”

  
The creeper has done the other half of that small job for me, both hands now ensnared. The tendrils at her legs have found the legs of the desk. If I didn't know better, I'd say the plant was on my side.

She swallows, her alabaster throat contracting visibly.

“I'm sorry...” Her voice is husky, rich with her arousal. I can feel the heat coming off of her against my thigh. For once, I'm not questioning her honesty.

My fingers relax in her hair. The gentler part of me flares, guilt at my rough treatment of her gnawing at me until she licks her lips. My cock is throbbing already and that animalistic part of me is back in command. I want that tongue on me, leaving trails on my heated skin, my fingers in that mane... I stop myself. I don't need to fantasize tonight.

“That's better,” I growl. I stroke her lower back with my thumb, let it dip under the waistband of her uniform pants. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she blurts, her words spilling over as though she's been holding them back for years.

I've heard her curse at conduits, call prime ministers and deities names I've never even thought of, but I've never heard her refer to sex as “fucking”.

I'm growling again, forcing her pants to her knees. I loose my cock from my pants, bury it in her heat and lose myself in her cries. She's moaning, cursing, then contracting around me, her walls tightening and massaging me. My hands tighten on her waist, hold her against me and pump harder, determined to make her come again.

She's grunting with every thrust, her breathing quickening again, nonsense words falling past those lips.

“I'm going to make you come again, Kathryn.”

She gasps, bucks her hips against me.

“God... Chakotay...”

She's rigid again, her eyes closed, mouth locked open and then she falls, her orgasm rippling through her.   
I take her hair again, pull her cheek up off the desktop and ride her, loving the state I've put her in.

Her voice is like music, low and gravelly, thick and throaty.

“Oh, God, yes... Harder.”

I can't believe it. She's much more vocal than I thought she'd be. It's better than my fantasies.

“Harder!”   
I push deeper, her hips hitting the edge of the desk with every thrust now.

She groans, a long low sound that vibrates through her body and sends shivers up mine.   
She's moaning my name over and over again, each syllable matching my pace.

I stop, pull out of her.

“W-wait,” she gasps, trying to turn her head to look at me. I press her down again, her cheek back on the flat surface, and spank her. She lets out a yelp that morphs into a moan.

I dip two fingers into her, play with the moisture there.

“Oh, God...” She's whimpering, desperate. “Don't tease.”

I pull her hair again.

“I'll tease all I want.”

I can't help but torture her. She's flushed, wet, panting. It's my turn to play games.


End file.
